Jealous, Dear?
by Mlee.Write
Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

I: Jane

_Monday_

Teresa Lisbon breezed into the office twenty minutes late, carrying a venti white chocolate mocha, and humming. It was strange enough that the whole team picked up on it, even Rigsby, but Jane had seen the signs for weeks.

Lying on his couch, drumming his fingers on his stomach, he pondered this distressing turn of events. This was the second time Lisbon had been late in two weeks. The other time had been a Tuesday, and she had been flushed, her hair slightly mussed. He was willing to write that one off, but now he was afraid the clues were adding up to a pattern.

Lisbon was getting some.

Which was good, he thought, reaching into his pocket for his lucky coin. It was fine that she had finally found the time to get a personal life. The added endorphins in her system had made her obviously happier at work. She was more likely to laugh now; her eyes sparkled. Clearly whoever was spending time in her bed was getting the job done.

Jane flipped the coin between his fingers. He wondered if her lover knew about that sensitive spot behind her ear. He only knew because she touched it sometimes when was thinking about sex. He only knew she was thinking about sex because she'd blush just a little and then touch her cross too.

Like that sheriff, the handsome one from Yolo county. He had been flirting with her on the case three months ago, and she had done the blush, ear, cross thing. Dead giveaway.

Jane sighed and rolled onto his side. It wasn't any of his business anyway.

She deserved to be happy.

He shouldn't be upset by it in the least.

_Tuesday_

The water was at the perfect boil for adding the tea. Jane dipped the bag in and watched whorls of red-brown spread the water.

He smelled Lisbon enter the kitchenette before he saw her. Cinnamon, coffee and (he was pretty sure) Lady Speed Stick.

She pulled a Tupperware container out of the fridge. "Hey Jane," she said, setting it in the microwave. She turned the dial and began to search for a plastic fork.

He listened to the microwave whir. Since when did Lisbon bring anything to work that wasn't a frozen meal?

"Slow day," he commented, dipping the tea bag repeatedly. "Something smells good."

She rifled through drawers, pushing aside rubber bands, gum and cough drops. No plastic forks. "Hmm? Yeah, pasta with lemon, white wine, sun dried tomatoes and artichokes," she replied. She a fork in the back of a drawer behind some candy from two years ago and snatched it triumphantly.

Jane watched her stir her leftovers. "New Italian place around here?" he asked conversationally.

"No, a friend made it for me," she replied, only half paying attention. Lunch heated, she stalked out of the kitchenette and back to her office.

Jane looked at his tea which was now hopelessly over-steeped. He dumped it in the sink.

It was one thing for Lisbon to be having sex, it was entirely another for her to have a boyfriend who cooked for her. That implied a certain level of domesticity. It also implied that said boyfriend knew that she lived off of powerbars and coffee and clearly intended to take care of her.

If she was in a relationship that serious, she should really have mentioned something to the team, right? Everyone else flaunted their relationships like it should be a feature in People magazine. Well, not Cho, but there was always an exception.

He thought about filling his cup with water and starting the tea process again, but really, he wasn't in the mood.

_Wednesday_

Jane pushed the door to Lisbon's office open, without knocking of course, and strolled in like he owned the place. He eagerly waited for her to ball him out, but instead she giggled.

_Giggled?_

Jane's head wrenched around to look at her. Her phone was pressed to her ear and her eyes were positively alight with merriment.

"Yes," she said, smiling. Whatever the other person on the phone said next made her whole face burn red. "No!" she hissed, still grinning. "Whatever. I'll see you tonight." She hung up.

Jane shoved his hands in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. "Who was that?" he asked casually.

"That was 'none of your business' calling to check up," she said, rolling her eyes. Her blush was fading.

Jane had seen Teresa Lisbon interview men about the tawdriest details of their sex lives. He had seen her bust into a brothel and act like a man wearing a giant diaper and calling a prostitute 'Mama Beth' was no big deal. He wondered what it took to make her blush like that.

She began typing. "Anything you needed, Jane?" she asked, her schoolmarm tone in play.

"Mind if I nap in here?" he asked absently. "It's a little loud out in the bullpen?"

Another eye roll. "Of course not," she said sarcastically. "We'd hate for you not to get your beauty rest."

Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously.

It had better not be Mashburn, he thought.

_Thursday_

He felt Lisbon nudge him with her knee. He was on his couch, facing the back, arms crossed over his chest.

"Mmm?" he said grumpily.

"It's eight," she said. "Everyone's gone."

"You're not," he muttered.

"Well, I'm going," she replied, then nudged him again. "You planning on sleeping here?"

He sighed and sat up. He had been enjoying his nap. He definitely hadn't been holding a vigil outside her office, waiting to see what time she left.

Jane rubbed his eyes, looked up, then froze.

Lisbon was not in her jeans-tank-blazer combo from earlier. Lisbon was wearing a little party dress in a deep midnight blue and had her hair in loose curls. He glanced down. She was wearing black heels. She had nice calves.

"Am I still asleep?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth before realized it.

She rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha, Jane." She headed for the elevator and he hurried to walk her out.

"Vice needed some help?" he guessed as the gold doors slid shut.

Lisbon glared at him. "Are you saying I look like a hooker?"

"Only a very expensive one, I'm sure," he replied. He dodged her punch to his arm. When she moved her perfume filled the elevator and he suddenly felt like pulling the emergency stop button and demanding she tell him everything.

He scratched his neck. "Seriously, you look beautiful," he said sincerely.

She smirked. "Thanks, Jane." She sighed. "I hope I'm not over-dressed. I haven't been to the theatre in forever."

"Theatre?" Even he noticed the slight uptick in his tone. It was an obvious sign of emotional distress.

"Yeah. I don't really want to go during the week, but you know…" she trailed off. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open again. "Have a good night, Jane."

He watched her walk away. The theatre was not sophomoric at all.

_Friday_

Jane was about to suggest a run to that Thai place down the street when Lisbon strolled out of her office.

"I'm taking off early, guys," she announced. "Don't stay too late okay? Have a good weekend."

Jane glanced at the clock. It was four.

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt all muttered distracted good byes. Some detectives they were.

"Big plans?" Jane asked innocuously.

She shrugged, smiled politely, "Just a relaxing weekend. Take care, Jane."

He watched her enter the elevator.

"Quit staring at her, man," Cho said, not looking up from his computer.

"I wasn't staring," Jane said defensively. "Does she look different to you?"

"You were totally staring," Cho replied. "Creeper style."

Jane rolled his eyes. "Something is definitely up with Lisbon," he said.

"It's called dating," Cho replied. "It's this thing people do. Not Rigsby, but other people."

"Hey!" Rigsby said.

"Good for her," Van Pelt said, as if this put an end to the entire debate. She was still glowing with smugness about her engagement.

"Well, if she's taking off early, so am I," Jane announced, a little huffy. He wandered out of the building, mind spinning.

Lisbon was obviously in a sexually gratifying relationship with someone who knew her well enough to cook for her and take her out to the theatre, someone she would willingly put work on the back burner for. Well, maybe not the back burner, he thought, but for her leaving two hours early was almost the same thing.

His stomach clenched painfully. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. Lisbon was supposed to be a hopeless case who would remain single until…

Until when Patrick? He asked himself. Until you kill Red John and get your shit together?

He made his way down the stairs and out the front of the building. He began a leisurely walk down the streets of Sacramento, his pace completely at odds with his frantic thoughts.

Even if Red John was out of the picture and he was free, he was pretty sure Lisbon knew him too well to fall for his BS. She knew how damaged he was. She knew about his compulsive manipulation and the fact that under all the bright smiles and teasing, there was a cruel streak hiding within him.

She'd called him on it often enough.

He thought he could probably get her into bed if he tried hard enough, but beyond that he didn't have anything to offer her.

So it didn't matter that she was seeing someone else, someone that made her happy.

It shouldn't hurt, he thought.

He stopped and stared at his reflection in a shop window.

It shouldn't. But it did.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

II. Teresa

_Monday_

Teresa clutched her coffee tightly and made a break for the elevator. She was twenty-minutes late. She'd never been twenty-minutes late in her entire life.

She supposed that meant she got a free pass this once.

The whole shower mix-up wasn't Cate's fault, but it irritated her a little. When Cate Marshall had called and asked to stay with her for a couple of weeks while her house was renovated she didn't hesitate to agree. They'd known each other since high school, when they had been best friends. Cate had known all about Teresa's alcoholic, abusive father, and had stood by her when things were at their worst.

The least she could do was offer a place to stay. Of course, she should have mentioned that she needed to be out the door by seven-thirty, and since she only had the one bathroom, that meant in the shower by seven. She thought about her friend and smiled.

She had been overjoyed when Cate had moved to California, but they were both busy and never seemed to find enough to time to spend together. Now that they were forced to share an apartment, it was a little like an extended sleepover. They had even stayed up late talking about boys…well, men. It was fun.

The elevator stopped at her floor and she headed for the bullpen, absently humming the theme from Downton Abbey. They'd watched the entire first season last night and shared a tub of double chocolate fudge ice cream.

The rest of the team was at work, except for Jane who was in his usual indolent napping position. She swore sometimes he was more cat than man. He was also too adorable for his own good, she thought, noticing a dark blonde curl had fallen over his forehead.

She nodded at her team and headed for her office.

She knew that curl would bother her all day.

_Tuesday_

It was noon and Teresa was actually eating lunch on time. She thought, cynically, that she might want to mark it in her calendar.

Of course, one of the perks of having your friend the professional chef living with you is that you have something better than a Lean Cuisine to look forward to for lunch. She walked into the kitchenette and hoped Rigsby hadn't raided her leftovers.

Jane was there, back to her, making his tea. Honestly, did his backside have to be so perfect? One of these days she was going to lose control of herself and grab it, just to see what it felt like.

He turned, fingers gently stirring his tea bag around the cup.

"Hey, Jane," she said.

"_Is that hot guy still working for you? The widower consultant guy?" Cate had asked on Sunday. "He could totally be on Downton Abbey."_

"_Totally," Teresa had agreed, swallowing a spoonful of ice cream. "He would give Thomas a run for his money in the conniving department."_

_Cate had snorted. "Whatever. You want a piece of that, bad."_

_Teresa had blushed. "I do not. He's my employee."_

"_He's sexy and refined and a gentleman, the exact opposite of the all cops you've ever dated…and your dad," her friend noted sagely. "You want on that."_

Now she was noticing how right Cate was on the refined, gentleman part. There was something about a man with a teacup.

She set her leftovers in the microwave and distracted herself looking for a fork. She was pretty sure someone had emptied the last box and hidden them all in their desk. Who stole plastic forks? It was so childish.

She pushed past some gum that had gone rock-hard.

Jane watched her forage. "Slow day," he commented politely. "Something smells good."

She glanced at the microwave. "Yeah, pasta with lemon, white wine, sun dried tomatoes and artichokes," she replied, thinking that if Cate stayed with her much longer, she wouldn't fit into any of her pants.

"New Italian place?" Jane asked.

"No, a friend made it for me." She found her fork amid all the detritus of the CBI kitchen. Maybe the next time Van Pelt or Rigsby pissed her off she'd assign them kitchen-cleaning duty. She'd make Cho do it, but he'd eat a bullet first.

Teresa stirred her leftovers, made sure they were hot, then glanced back at Jane. Was it her imagination or was he staring at her? She wondered if she had powdered sugar on her chin.

It really wasn't fair that he got to be so handsome and perfect. Jane never had powdered sugar on his chin. She snatched her food and headed back to her office without a goodbye, her hand absently wiping her face.

_Wednesday_

"I rented The Royal Wedding," Cate told her on the other end of the line. "I'm in the mood for a good, old movie."

"Is that the one with the dancing on the ceiling?" Teresa asked. Her mouse hovered over her email box, scanning the messages that just appeared in the last hour. Honestly, how did she get five hundred emails a day? It wasn't even funny.

"That's the one. We can watch that then talk about how you're going to seduce your hot consultant," Cate threw in.

"Mmm-hmm."

"I knew you weren't paying attention!"

Teresa straightened up, replaying the last few seconds of conversation. "Sorry! And I'm not going to …seduce him." The word felt funny on her tongue.

Besides, Jane was a master at deception and seduction. Any attempts she made to ensnare him (not that she wanted to ensnare him) would be as clumsy as fifteen-year-old's. She had a mental picture of herself in braces asking Jane to the prom. Ugh.

The door to her office swung open (no knock, of course), and the devil himself strolled in.

She couldn't help it. She giggled, just a little.

"Oh my God," said Cate. "He's there right now isn't he?"

"Yes," Teresa said, her eyes sliding to Jane. He was doing the thing where his eyes droop sleepily and he looked like he was either about to seduce you or fall asleep. It was very leonine. And hot.

"Tell him he needs to make up for all the complaint files you've had to fill out about him and that he can start by taking off his pants. Or your pants. However you want to play it," Cate's voice was gleeful.

A mental image of Jane with no pants shot through her head. "No!" Teresa hissed, hating that she could feel a blush rising up her neck.

"Wimp."

"Whatever, I'll see you tonight." She hung up on her friend, face still burning. It was amazing how her friend turned her into a silly teenager again.

"Who was that?" Jane asked casually, meandering over to the couch like he owned it (which he kind of did considering he bought it). No gift from Jane came without a catch.

_Oh, just my best friend telling me how I should act on my stupid hormonal urges to have sex with you_, Teresa thought. "That was 'none of your business' calling to check up," she said instead.

She swore Jane looked slightly put out. That was odd. She went back to her emails. "Anything you needed, Jane?" she asked.

"Mind if I nap in here? It's a little loud out in the bullpen?" he asked.

She felt a kick her stomach at the thought of Jane sacking out in her office. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, but there was something oddly intimate about having him asleep five feet from her.

She covered her response with sarcasm. "Of course not. We'd hate for you not to get your beauty rest." _Like he needed it_.

She was never sure if he was really sleeping or not, but she liked having him there while she worked. She liked looking over and seeing a tousled Jane on her couch. It made her feel like he belonged to her, which was silly. It really was.

_**A/N: Thursday/ Friday are going to be a little longer from Lisbon's POV so I broke them off into a separate chapter. Thanks again for all the reviews you guys!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

**A/N: I'm posting a couple of short chapters here. Sorry for that!**

III. Teresa

Thursday

Teresa finished swiping mascara across her eyelashes, stood back and looked at herself in the mirror. She'd had the midnight blue cocktail dress for some time, but never found the occasion to wear it. She was grateful it still fit. A little smoky eye shadow, some mascara, and a curling iron to her hair later and she looked presentable.

She frowned. She felt a lot more comfortable in her jeans and a button-up.

After one last glance at herself (was the dress too low cut in front?) she left the women's room and grabbed her jacket and keys from her office.

Cate was catering a private performance of A Midsummer's Night Dream for diamond-tier donors to the Sacramento Theatre Company. Since Cate donated the time her staff spent preparing and serving the food, the theatre company gave her a few complimentary tickets to the event. She'd convinced Teresa to join her.

Truth be told, she hadn't had an opportunity to out in a pretty dress and be girlie for a long time. She looked forward to it, and she secretly loved Shakespeare.

Her heels clacked loudly on the wooden floor of the bullpen as she strode toward the elevator. Something out of the corner of her eye made her stop. Jane's back was facing her from his old brown couch. He was curled up on his side and based on the rise and fall of his shoulders, he was actually asleep this time.

She sighed as she debated waking him. He'd wake on his own eventually and make his way home, but there was something so lonely about him lying there by himself. She couldn't leave him to wake up in the dark by himself.

She approached the couch slowly, drinking in the sight of him peacefully resting. His face was slack and calm, his hair adorably mussed. She wanted so much to lean down and kiss his cheek, just once.

Instead she nudged him with her knee, right in the center of his back. She was afraid if she leaned down to shake him she'd follow through on her fantasy to kiss him, and that would be awkward.

She nudged him again. "Jane."

He grumbled something in his sleep and she smiled. He could be grouchy when he was tired.

"It's eight," she said. "Everyone's gone."

"You're not," he muttered, definitely grouchy.

"Well, I'm going. You planning on sleeping here?"

He grumbled again and rolled over, blinking at her. There was something so sexy about the man when he woke up from a nap. He always looked a little too tousled, like he'd just rolled out of bed after a good, long… Absently she touched her cross. _Bad Teresa_.

It took a moment for his head to clear, and then he looked at her in earnest, blue eyes sweeping over her body. She felt herself squirm under the scrutiny.

"Am I still asleep?" he asked.

She felt a flush rise from her neck and she self-consciously pulled her jacket tight over her cleavage. He was studying her shoes now, black heels. She'd had to blow dust off them this morning.

"Ha-ha, Jane," she said, hiding her embarrassment behind sarcasm. She left him on the couch and headed for the elevator.

Before she could escape his hand shot out and held the door. He slipped inside and ran his fingers through his messy blond curls. She bit her lip, resisting the urge to help him. His shirt and slacks were wrinkled, his face pink with sleep.

He was staring at the numbers above the door. "Vice needed some help?" he asked, his voice playful.

Teresa felt a little nudge of irritation in her gut. She'd dressed up to the nines and the man insults her. "Are you saying I look like a hooker?" The question came out sharper than she'd intended.

"Only a very expensive one, I'm sure," he replied coolly. She feigned punching him the arm. Jerk.

His impish grin suddenly disappeared and he looked almost a little embarrassed. "Seriously though, you look beautiful," he said. He scratched his neck and went back to watching the numbers take turns counting down their descent.

Teresa winced a little at the flutter that went through her at the compliment. Despite all his teasing it seemed sincere, and part of her glowed with girlish pride that Jane thought she looked pretty. For a moment she considered inviting him along; Cate had enough tickets and he clearly didn't have plans. She knew Jane liked Shakespeare. It could be fun.

She shifted uncomfortably. It all sounded dangerously like asking him on a date, and besides, Cate would never let her live it down.

She sighed. "I hope I'm not over-dressed. I haven't been to the theatre in forever," she said to fill the silence.

"Theatre?" He seemed surprised.

Did the oh-so cultured Jane think she didn't go to the theatre? He probably thought she spent her nights at the shooting range…which was only partially true. She realized she wanted him to see this side of her outside of work. She wanted him to know that she was more than cop. The realization scared her.

She faltered for conversation. "Yeah. I don't really want to go during the week, but you know…" She breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors slide open. "Have a good night, Jane."

She walked to her car without looking back at him. If she did she might just ask him along, and that was a slippery slope indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

IV: Teresa

_Thursday_

The performance was excellent and the canapés divine, but what else did Teresa expect from Cate?

Her friend stood next to her sipping champagne and gossiping about the rich attendees like they were in the girls' bathroom in high school.

She gestured at an older woman with blue hair. "She's having an affair with the mayor's father," Cate whispered. "Which is just disgusting because, as you know, old people should not have sex."

Teresa snickered and rolled her eyes. "We're turning into old people," she muttered.

"Speak for yourself," Cate replied. "I just celebrated the tenth anniversary of my thirtieth birthday."

Cate looked younger than she was, with a smart strawberry blonde bob that made her look almost girlish. She also worked out like a fiend to keep the pounds she would otherwise gain from sampling her own cooking at bay. Tonight she wore a skin tight black dress that had most of the male attendees craning to look at her.

Teresa shifted uncomfortably on sore feet. She wasn't used to heels. She was thinking about making her excuses when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"Teresa!"

She turned to find Walter Mashburn smiling at her, a leggy blonde on his arm.

"I didn't know you were a diamond donor to the Sac Theatre Company," he gushed. "They pay you civil servants far too much. Remind me to write a strongly worded letter, Trish."

The blonde blinked in a vaguely bovine fashion.

Teresa flushed. "I'm actually here as a guest of my friend Cate. She catered the event."

Cate reached out and shook Walter's hand. "You may not remember me Mr. Mashburn, but I've catered some of your parties as well."

"I'm sure I'd remember you," he said flirtatiously, narrowing his eyes in thought.

"Well, I never attended in person. I always sent my male staff to do the service," she laughed.

"Clever girl," Walter smirked. He studied Teresa for a second longer than was comfortable. "Ah, Teresa, you look stunning tonight. Why don't you ever return my calls?"

The blonde's head snapped around with a snake-like motion. Her look was poisonous.

"I'm uh…busy, Walter," Teresa faltered. "You know my schedule is hectic."

"Hmm." He smiled at her with genuine warmth, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Well, when you find the time, you know I'm available," he said, before sauntering off, arm candy in tow.

Cate didn't say a word, just gave her a sharp look.

Teresa sipped her champagne, face warm. "What?"

"You slept with Walter Mashburn?" The incredulity in Cate's voice was a little insulting.

"The once," she replied. "And it was just a one night stand, okay?"

Cate snorted and watched him make his way through the crowd. "Clearly not for him. He was ready toss Bambi down the stairs and run off with you. Which would have been _hilarious_, by the way."

She tried not to imagine Trish falling headlong down the carpeting stairs and into the crowd of septuagenarians below. It was pretty funny. Instead she glanced after Walter. He was a sweet man and genuinely likeable…but he was…_Walter_.

"Walter's a big kid," Teresa replied. "He's got the attention span of a gnat and you never know what he's going to do next to get attention."

"Sounds just like all the times you've complained about Jane," Cate replied dryly.

"It's not the same." She hated how her voice sounded all defensive.

"Right. Walter Mashburn, handsome billionaire, is begging for you to give him a chance and you blow him off because you are definitely not holding out for your hot consultant, sure." Cate winked at her. "Pull the other one, it's got bells on."

"I am not holding out for Jane," Teresa said sharply.

"I've known you since you had braces and needed someone to tell you how a tampon works, honey," Cate replied gently. "You've had long term relationships in the past, no great ones, but you didn't close yourself off. Then Jane shows up and suddenly you're always available…"

"He works for me."

"You worked for Bosco."

Teresa clenched her jaw. "Not fair."

Cate shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe you two need to get it out of your system. Who knows, maybe he's awful in bed and has gas all the time. Maybe it would never work out."

She downed the last of her champagne. She had a feeling that Jane was as intuitive and surprising in bed as he was in everyday life, which frankly scared her a little. She wasn't going near the gas comment.

Cate wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Oh, don't be mad at me, honey. Let's go try one of those bacon-wrapped scallops. That will cheer you up."

Teresa allowed herself to be led away, but the uncomfortable niggling in the back of her mind persisted. What if she was waiting for Jane? She was probably going to die alone in that case. He was still devoted his dead wife and the vengeance he planned on Red John. There was no way he was able to offer her anything emotionally. He was as unavailable as it was possible for a man to get.

Maybe she needed to get out more.

Maybe she needed to get her head examined.

_Friday_

Teresa's ear was sore from having the phone pressed to it for so long.

"What do you mean I won't have running water till Sunday?" she asked the building manager, her voice sharp with irritation.

"It's not my fault, Mrs. Lisbon," he replied. It annoyed her to no end that he always called her Mrs. Lisbon even though he'd never seen her with a husband. "The city was doing work on the street in front of the building and screwed up something big time. They have to replace a bunch of piping."

She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache brewing. "Just…keep me up to date okay?" she sighed, before hanging up.

She made two more calls, one to Cate, apologizing for the inconvenience, and one to a hotel, booking them a couple of rooms for the weekend. She splurged a little; she hadn't taken a vacation in years and she had the extra income. A girl's weekend at a nice hotel with a spa was what she needed to stop thinking about Cate's remarks about Jane. Maybe there would even be a hot po'boy…

She glanced the clock. It was only four, but now she had to pack and take care of a few last minute things before she left for her weekend getaway.

She grabbed her things and headed for the bullpen. Jane was perched on the corner of Rigsby's desk sorting through take out menus. Cho was reading and Grace was pretending not to look at bridal gowns online.

"I'm taking off early, guys," she announced, hating how guilty she felt. "Don't stay too late okay? Have a good weekend."

She noticed Jane and Cho glance discreetly at the clock.

"Big plans?" Jane asked. He smiled his million-watt smile at her and her stomach kicked in response.

"Just a relaxing weekend," she replied, hoping it was true. "Take care, Jane."

She waited for the elevator, swearing she could feel the man staring at her back. She definitely needed a pool boy, and probably a drink.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

V. Jane

_Friday_

The streets of downtown Sacramento were filled with strolling lovers. Jane couldn't so much as wander and brood in peace without running into some starry-eyed couple holding hands. It was incredibly irritating.

Another couple passed him, smiling and in love; he turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at their dopey expressions. Honestly, was there something in the water? In that moment he made a snap decision. He forced the twinge of guilt he felt into the back of his mind.

When he returned to the CBI building, everyone had gone home. It was easy to pick the lock to Lisbon's darkened office. It was just as easy to guess her password and log onto her computer.

He opened her web browser and searched her history. The last site she visited was a travel site. He opened her email and found the detailed receipt for the hotel stay she had booked.

Two nights in the deluxe suite at Sacramento's finest hotel.

He settled back in his chair, discomfited. The suite she booked has two-person sized Jacuzzi bath. He thought about Lisbon in the bath, her hair curly from the steam, the bubbles just cresting the tips of her breasts… He stood up too quickly and knocked over her chair. Cursing, he righted it.

Lisbon didn't strike him as the type for a stay at a romantic five star hotel where the only thing to do was to be pampered. He saw her more as the outdoorsy type, booking a cabin the woods and hiking during the day. He realized he didn't know much about her romantic preferences at all, which was galling for a man who considered himself an expert on his coworkers' personal lives.

Maybe that was why he was so dismayed by her new boyfriend. Lisbon had managed to surprise him. She did that occasionally, and it never failed to thrill him and irritate him, just a little.

He took one last look at the receipt. Why was Lisbon footing the bill for the hotel anyway? He was all for equal rights, and Lisbon certainly didn't need anyone to support her financially, but shouldn't Mr. Wonderful be treating her to a romantic weekend? It was sexist and outdated, but it bothered him just a little.

He made up his mind as he shut her computer down and sneaked out of the room. It was a bad decision, the kind that made him think he was losing his control, but he couldn't help it. He would check out the hotel, watch them from a distance, and if they guy really did seem okay, he'd back off. He'd bow out and be happy for Lisbon.

If he seemed like a jerk…? Well, Jane hadn't figured that part out exactly yet. Luckily he was good at making plans on the fly.

_Saturday: Teresa_

"I really needed this," Cate sighed, stretching her legs and fanning herself with a gossip magazine.

They were lying on chaise lounges by the pool, soaking up the sun. Teresa couldn't remember the last time she'd put on a bikini and sipped a drink with an umbrella in it. It was heavenly.

"I've been thinking," Cate continued, "that if you aren't going pursue Jane, you should at least introduce me to him."

Teresa choked a little on her daiquiri. "Excuse me?"

Cate sat up and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. "I mean it. He's single. I'm single. No fair keeping that all to yourself."

Teresa rolled her eyes. "He's definitely not your type, too high maintenance."

"I can deal with high maintenance," Cate replied. "I could make him a red velvet cake…"

Teresa's heart stopped for a moment. Cate could broker peace in the Middle East with that cake.

"He's really unavailable," she said. "The whole mourning his dead wife and child, and the hunt for the serial killer…makes dating tough." Her voice was more sarcastic than she intended.

Cate smirked. "You are so hopeless. Would you just admit you're halfway in love with the guy?"

"I am not," Teresa replied, sounding a little childish. "We make a good team, that's all."

Cate reopened her magazine, ostensibly ignoring her friend. "Mmm-hmm. He challenges you intellectually, brings you out of your good-Catholic-school-girl shell, and routinely surprises you. Meanwhile, you tend all his wounds. We could write a TV show about that."

Teresa scowled. "Worst show ever."

"Mmm-hmm."

She settled back on her longue and let the words "halfway in love with him" run wild through her head. She did love Jane, of course. He was loveable when he wasn't being annoying as hell. It was his childlike wonder at the world, his innate sense of fun and mischief. But in love? That implied a whole level of emotional intimacy she couldn't fathom with him.

Jane was a showman. He was there for the big reveal—then poof! Gone.

She couldn't domesticate Jane. What did he look like brushing his teeth? Or doing laundry? Did the man even have morning breath?

Then she realized, of course he did. She'd woken him up in the middle of the night enough times to know what he looked like rumpled, sleepy, irritable. She'd been around him when he'd had morning breath, been around him when he'd been sobbing silently in grief, been around him when he'd been sweating with terror. She'd seen him sick and screaming with pain.

There was no mystery between them anymore, she realized, biting her lip.

She knew he liked eggs for breakfast, knew what he looked like asleep, knew how much he hated to be alone. She thought about how he moved closer to her when he felt vulnerable and playful, just on the edge of maintaining a professional distance. One more inch and he'd be snuggling her on the ugly brown couch.

She wiggled her toes, studied the newly painted pink nails, and pondered. A pressure was building behind her eyes.

"For God's sake, just call him," Cate sighed.

Teresa picked up the phone, realized Jane was the first person on her speed dial. What did that mean?

She felt a little nauseated.

"Tell him to come over here and have cheap hotel sex with you," Cate muttered. "There's two beds in the suite. No one has to sleep in the wet spot."

Teresa laughed. The pressure intensified. "What about you?"

Cate rolled her eyes. "I can find another place for the weekend. Besides, the guy in the red speedo over there is pretty hot…"

Teresa grimaced. "Speedos are disgusting." She picked up her drink, but her stomach rolled at the first sip.

Cate tore her gaze away from the hunk across the pool and she studied her friend, lifting her sunglasses and squinting. "Are you okay? You're kind of…gray."

"I think…" Teresa felt foolish. "I think I'm getting a migraine actually." The headaches had plagued her since she was teen, but she kept them at bay with beta blockers. Every now and then one hit her hard. She'd muddled through the pain on cases, but there will pills in her purse just in case. "Too much sun, maybe."

"Well, go lie down," Cate said gently. "Jane will still be pining for you in a few hours. I'll wake you for dinner."

Teresa muttered an apology and headed for her room, finger still hovering over Jane's number on her phone.

_Jane_

It took some work, but Jane managed to get a room at Lisbon's hotel. It wasn't near her suite, but given that it was a weekend, he was lucky to manage to get in at all.

He'd thought about waiving his CBI badge around officiously, but then he'd seen the Ian Fleming novel the desk clerk had been trying to hide, and gone with the international man of mystery persona instead. It was amazing what people would infer about you when you refused to take off your sunglasses and checked your back surreptitiously. Of course, the fifty dollar bill probably hadn't hurt either.

He hadn't brought more than an overnight bag with some toiletries, pajama bottoms and an extra suit. He tossed it on one of the double beds in his room and then went off in search of Lisbon—clandestinely of course.

He started with the hotel restaurants since it was close to lunch, but found no sign of his quarry. The pool was also a bust, as well as the bar and longue.

Maybe they weren't going to leave their room. That was a depressing thought.

He settled into a rattan chair in the longue and ordered a drink from the waitress. He stared moodily out over the pool. She had to come out of the room sometime. He could always pull the fire alarm…

"Hey, there gorgeous," came a voice from over his shoulder.

He turned just in time to see a lanky blonde settle down in the seat across from him. She was wearing a black swimsuit cover-up that was only slightly more scandalous than a swimsuit.

She beamed at him. "I hope you weren't waiting for someone," she said.

Jane faltered for a moment, and then instinctively raised his left hand.

She caught sight of the wedding band, but her smile didn't waver. "Ahh. Let me guess, it's complicated."

"How can you tell?" he asked dryly.

"Well, you looked more surprised than annoyed when I sat down, so clearly you're not concerned about your wife turning the corner and chewing you out for chatting with me," she replied easily. "Divorced?"

He felt his gut clench. "Sort of."

She settled back in her chair and crossed her legs. "And now you're here because you're meeting a woman for the first time since the…estrangement shall we say?"

Jane narrowed his eyes. "Very perceptive."

"Well, you're nervous, looking around for someone, and obviously not welcoming my advances," she said. "I'm Cate by the way. You have such lovely blond curls."

There was something about the woman he didn't trust. She wasn't actively lying, but she clearly was hiding something. Grifter?

"I'm sorry, Cate," he said kindly, flashing her his most disarming smile. "But I really am waiting for someone."

She didn't melt at his smile at all. She returned it with one that was sharp with cunning. "Ah, but is she waiting for you?"

He thought about reading her then. Telling her he could tell that she was a daddy's girl who'd had a hard time adjusting to the world. He could tell her that she was brazen and brassy because it hid how conventional her tastes really were. Judging by her hands, and the burn scars on her arm, she was a chef of some sort. He could tell her all that, but he didn't, because she surprised him.

"Meet me for dinner for seven-thirty in the restaurant," she told him bluntly.

"I thought we just established I was waiting for someone," he replied, beginning to feel annoyed.

"Yes, but she hasn't shown up. It just so happens that my date isn't feeling well, so have dinner with me," she returned easily.

He seriously considered blowing her off, maybe rudely, but then realized it would be the ideal cover. If Lisbon and Prince Charming left the room long enough to eat at the restaurant, he had a good chance of spotting them. Sitting with an attractive blonde made him seem less like a 'creeper,' as Cho had called him. If Lisbon opted for room service, he could always make his apologies and leave.

"As long as you understand I'm not in the market for anything other than dinner," he said carefully.

She smirked. "Seven-thirty then. Don't be late."

As she strutted away he thought he heard her murmur "too stupid for their own good," but he couldn't be sure.

He sighed and tried to think of a way to while away the hours till dinner. He just hoped Lisbon and her lover would come up for air.

**A/N: Jisbon in the next chapter, promise! If you're enjoying this story please leave a review and let me know! Reviews keep the juices flowing.**


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

VI.

Saturday Night

Teresa woke with a sour taste in her mouth and a foggy head. Anytime she took her prescription painkillers she would sleep for a solid four hours and then wake logy and confused. The hotel room was dark and silent, and she flicked on the bedside lamp, wincing at the sudden brightness.

Clearly it was after dark, and from the quiet, Cate wasn't back yet. She glanced at the alarm clock and saw the note leaning against it. It read: _Dinner downstairs at 7:30. Don't be late, sleepyhead._

Teresa groaned as she got of bed. A quick shower, a change of clothes, a little makeup later and she was only slightly late. She hurried to the elevator, knowing Cate would be waiting impatiently. She felt jittery, like there was a buzz of electricity running through her limbs. She'd slept all day and now her body was eager for activity. She felt more like going for a run than sitting down for dinner, but she knew she'd regret it later if she didn't eat now. She was never going to fall asleep tonight.

She sighed as the elevator doors slide open and the general cacophony of the lobby hit her. The hotel was crowded and she had to weave a path to the restaurant, which seemed equally packed. She glanced through the doors, but didn't see Cate's blonde bob among the crowd.

The hostess noticed her before she could say anything. "Ms. Lisbon? Your table is waiting, and I was asked to give you this."

The hostess handed her a note written on the hotel stationary. She unfolded it. Cate had scrawled: _Decided to spend the weekend with Mr. Speedo, sorry. Enjoy your dinner. You can thank me later. XOXO P.S. I want all the details. _

Teresa frowned, wondering just how foggy headed she was exactly. She followed the hostess anyway, and stopped the minute the gold curls came into view._ Jane_.

XXX

Jane drummed his fingers on the table irritably. The restaurant was so crowded that he'd have a hard time keeping an eye out for Lisbon and her lover (if they bothered to show), and now his "date" was late as well. It was shaping up to be a pretty crappy evening.

He sensed her before he saw her; he was getting good at that now. Lisbon-electricity would fill a room and he'd look up and know she was there.

She was standing next to his table as the hostess pulled a chair out for her. She was wearing jeans and a casual long sleeved shirt, and she looked impossibly petite.

"Jane?" she asked, before sitting down.

His heart hammered in his chest. He never panicked when a con was about to go south, so why freak out now? "Lisbon?" His voice sounded normal at least. "What are you doing here?"

Lisbon frowned, making a little crease appear between her eyes. "Getting stood up, I think."

Jane reached for his water glass to give himself a moment to recover. Mr. Perfect stood up Teresa Lisbon? That made no sense. She was good company for a meal and she was looking especially soft and pretty tonight, not like her usual hard-boiled cop self. He thought she might even be wearing lipstick.

"Me too," he said before she got suspicious. "I was meeting someone here."

Her eyes narrowed. "Really."

"Yes, Lisbon," he said indignantly. "I have friends."

"No, you don't." Her words seemed to burst from her, and she blushed furiously. "I mean…you know, besides the team."

Jane put his hand to his heart. "Lisbon, you wound me."

She looked down, embarrassed, and brushed a lock of sable hair behind her ear. "Well, I'm happy for you, Jane. It's good that you're getting out more, meeting people."

He heard her genuine concern for him and it sent a flutter of guilt through his stomach. He felt like some sort of pervert stalking her while she was out enjoying a perfectly normal weekend with a boyfriend.

A boyfriend who stood her up. That part still baffled him. Who would miss out on the opportunity to spend time with Lisbon? The guy must be a jerk. He made a note to track him down and hurt him; scratch that, have Cho hurt him.

The line between Lisbon's eyebrows reappeared. "Jane, are you okay? You look…scowly."

"I'm fine," he said quickly. The waitress brought the bottle of wine he'd ordered earlier and he raised his glass in a toast. "Here's to being stood up," he said brightly.

She pondered her menu and he used the time to think. If Mr. Wonderful had bailed on her, then there was no need for him to keep up his reconnaissance. Clearly he wasn't the right man for her, and Lisbon would only put up with that nonsense for so long. Of course, if he backed out now she might meet a new Mr. Wonderful and then he'd back in the same situation.

What was he going to do anyway? Stop her from ever finding a boyfriend? She had the right to be happy and he could hardly offer her domestic bliss. _"Your place or mine? And by mine I mean a cot in an attic."_

Bitter now, he thought about making his apologies and leaving. Then, eyes still on her menu, her fingers absently went to the back of her ear, then quickly brushed her cross.

He perked up. _Really?_ For _him_? Or was she thinking about her no-show lover?

Interesting.

"You know, Teresa, I don't really see you as the luxury hotel type," he said casually.

If she noticed he used her first name, she hid it. "Cops can't enjoy a good massage and a day by the pool?" she asked dryly.

Teresa Lisbon made the word massage sound filthy somehow, and his pulse kicked up a notch.

"Of course not," he amended smoothly. "You're always so tense. You could use a decent massage. I'd have offered to rub some of the kinks out of your shoulders, but I don't want to set the office ablaze with gossip."

He sipped his wine, expecting to see just a hint of a blush, but there was none. "Please, Jane, half the office thinks we've been sleeping together for years," she said. "There's a pool on when I finally dump you."

"Dump me?" he asked indignantly. He snorted. "Please, if we were lovers you'd never dump me."

Lisbon settled back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Really. Enlighten me."

For a moment Jane thought _he_ might blush, but he rolled along smoothly, ever the showman. "I mean I'm charming, handsome, considerate…"

She snorted.

He ignored her and continued. "Funny, intelligent, and excellent in bed."

Lisbon rolled her eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. "I'd say you're more often aggravating than charming, manipulative than considerate, sarcastic than funny… I'll give you handsome and intelligent. I wouldn't know about the last."

He was shocked that normally reserved Lisbon was so non-plussed about their conversation. He'd never really seen this side of her before, but then he'd seen her so little out of work. He liked it.

"The truth is, not many women would," he admitted before he could catch himself. He noticed her surprise at his candor.

He was saved by the waitress stopping by again for their orders. Before Lisbon could speak he ordered her shrimp in a pasta with a rich cream sauce.

"Really Jane, ordering for me?" she asked.

"I knew what you'd pick," he replied. Truthfully he thought she needed the calories. She too often went all day on some fruit and a pot of coffee.

As soon as the waitress left he was ready to move onto safer topics, but Lisbon surprised him yet again. "So, not many. Really?"

Jane squirmed uncomfortably. "I sowed my wild oats, so to speak, but I met Angela when I was twenty-two. No one else mattered after that," he said.

Lisbon took a drink of wine. "Sure, but since then surely…"

Jane felt himself flush and hated himself for it.

"Wow, I uh." Lisbon fiddled with her napkin. "I'm sorry I brought it up, Jane."

"Don't be," he replied. "I'm not ashamed." He realized it was true.

"I, uh, haven't exactly been hitting it out of the park romantically either," she confessed. "In fact I think we're probably on the most romantically dysfunctional team in the bureau."

Jane grinned. "Nah. You can tell Cho is a real ladies man."

Lisbon laughed, a bright genuine laugh. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes were bright.

He didn't want to make excuses anymore. He wanted to stay at that table all night and talk to her, make her laugh like that. Without even thinking about it, he reached over and grasped her hand. Her eyes opened wide in surprise, but she didn't pull away.

XXX

Teresa's hand burned all through dinner. Her food, which was probably delicious, tasted like air. All she could think about was Jane's hand on hers. It had felt so _good_.

He was in cheerful-Jane mode, reading the patrons at other tables to entertain her. She half listened, her mind whirring. There hadn't been anyone since Angela? That was a shock… and also so terribly sad.

She knew Jane punished himself, but she hadn't expected him to be so cut off from human contact. Even meaningless sex was good for the soul sometimes.

She wondered what he would do if she offered herself as comfort, a body to lie next to, to be within. Would he be shocked, embarrassed? Would he be disgusted that she'd offer, knowing he had remained faithful to his wife for this long?

She sighed and stirred her fork in her pasta. _Half way in love with him_. That's what Cate had said, and it was true. She was hopeless when it came to caring for wounded men, and Jane was the most wounded man she'd ever met. Of course she wanted him.

A golden curl fell into his eyes as he laughed. Of course the fact that he was gorgeous didn't hurt.

Would it be good for both of them, not to be alone tonight?

She made her decision, she'd offer and if he rejected her, she would pretend like nothing had happened. She was good at denial.

Jane signed for the bill before she could snatch it, but he lingered at the table as if he didn't want to go.

Bravely, she said, "I have a suite here. Do you want to come up?"


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

VII.

For a moment, Jane hesitated. His mouth had gone dry.

"I have a whole suite upstairs," she added. "I hate to think of you going back to your no-tell motel tonight when I have all this space."

Of course, Saint Teresa was offering him comfort and sanctuary. He felt his pulse return to a normal rhythm. She wasn't the type of girl to invite him up to her hotel room so recently vacated by her mystery lover.

A polite apology hovered on his tongue when she added, "It would make me feel better, Jane, knowing you're there."

And then he realized he was well and truly screwed. As much as it galled him to admit, Patrick Jane couldn't deny her anything.

He placed his hand on her back, just barely hovering there, as they left the restaurant and headed for the elevators. The entire ride upstairs was filled with silence and tension on his part; she seemed complacent enough. Of course she was inviting a friend to stay with her; he was trying to sort out his feelings for the first woman he'd loved since Angela died.

_Loved._

That was the rub, wasn't it? He did love her, and he if admitted it to her, if he kissed her right now he'd only tarnish the friendship that was so precious to him. Either Lisbon would slap him and demand he leave, or she'd accept his advances. If she did that she'd find herself stuck with a man no longer capable of emotionally intimacy, or really much else. He was so selfish that he'd been willing to ruin her chances at love and happiness just to keep her available for him, even knowing he'd never act upon his feelings. He wanted her up on a pedestal, untouched, so he could admire her from afar. It wasn't fair to her at all.

"You okay?" she asked as the door slid open and she headed for her room. "You look angry."

He forced his face to relax. _I'm such a bastard_, he thought. "No, I'm fine, Lisbon. You really don't need to do this. I'm fine on my own."

She swiped her keycard through the door lock. "Hush. Like I said, I have all this room."

He followed her into the room, a tingle building at the base of his spine. He wanted to push her against the wall and kiss her. He wanted to carry her into the bedroom and make up for all the times he'd aggravated her over the years. Instead he stood there awkwardly like a kid on his first date.

Lisbon was oblivious. She strolled into the main area of the suite and starting flipping on lights. From the open windows he could see the glittering skyline of Sacramento.

The suite was large, two bedrooms, two baths, and a spacious living area. The bedrooms were separated from the living room by French doors. One set of doors was open and he could Lisbon's luggage lying open on the floor. A red bikini top was strewn across the edge of the suitcase.

He found it hard to swallow.

"You want to watch TV for a while?" she asked, curling up on the couch, tucking her bare feet underneath her.

"Sure," he replied hoarsely, removing his jacket and tossing it over a chair.

Lisbon was occupied with flipping through channels. He moved to sit in the chair but she said, "Sit on the couch with me."

He settled onto the other end and started when she uncurled her legs and rested her bare feet against his thigh. Her toenails were tiny and painted bright pink.

She stopped at a mindless action move and sighed, settling back further and resting her chin on her hand. On the screen the bad guy shot at a car and it exploded into a huge orange ball of fire. "You know, they don't really do that," she commented. "Can you imagine what the highway would be like if cars were that combustible? One fender bender, and the whole southbound lane goes up in flames."

He smiled. His Lisbon could be such a killjoy. He settled back to watch the movie, enjoying the hot press of her feet against him.

The both were lulled away by the noise of the TV and the general quiet of the evening. He found her company peaceful and easy, and about an hour later, without realizing it, he found himself rubbing her feet.

Lisbon had her eyes closed in pleasure. She let out a little sigh and said, "That feels so good, Jane."

Her words sent a shock straight to his groin. Without thinking he dropped her foot onto his thigh.

She opened one eye and quirked a smile. "You okay?"

"Butterfingers," he muttered, picking up her foot again. If he stopped now she'd realize something was wrong. As it was, he would be lucky if she didn't realize he was tenting his pants.

He kept rubbing the arch of her foot, flexing her toes gently. Every little sigh and moan of pleasure made his pulse jump. He forced himself to breathe evenly, to keep his hands from shaking.

He risked a glance at her, lying languidly on the sofa, eyes open now. Her pupils were large and dark. A faint, feline smile graced her lips.

He swallowed and let his hand run down her ankle, under the cuff of her jeans and along her calf. He squeezed the muscle there gently.

"Jane," she murmured.

They both moved at the same time to meet in the middle of the couch. His lips found hers unerringly. He'd thought about kissing Lisbon in the past, thought about how she would taste and how soft she would feel underneath him.

She tasted like cinnamon and lemon tea. She wasn't as soft as he expected; feminine yes, but strong under his carefully wandering hands. He restricted his caresses to her back, her neck. Her hair was silky.

She was the one who opened the kiss, who traced the seam of his lips with her tongue. She was the one who tempted him to let her in. He felt almost faint with need.

He didn't think about it; something inside him snapped. He pulled her against his body roughly, kissing her hard enough to bruise. He wanted…wanted…

There were no words for this, just pent up animal need. His fingers were hard on her waist, digging into the skin there.

She pushed on his shoulders, rough enough to separate them with a loud smacking noise. Her eyes were filled with concern.

In the silence he could hear his own ragged breathing.

"Lisbon, I'm sorry," he blurted. "I shouldn't have."

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "It's fine, Jane. It's just…are you okay?"

He didn't feel okay. He felt manic and wild. She didn't deserve this.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"Well, Mr. Psychic, we just kissed and then you started to get a little frantic," she replied wryly. "You went away, in your eyes. Like you do sometimes."

He squeezed his eyes closed, and moved her away from his body. "I'm sorry Lisbon, I should go. I'm sorry."

The worry line appeared on her forehead. "It's okay, Jane. You didn't do anything wrong."

He didn't expect that from her. What they did was very wrong. She was his boss, and his friend.

"This was a mistake," he said, then winced as pain flashed through her eyes. "Not that, Teresa. You couldn't be a mistake." He fumbled for her hand and squeezed it. "You're perfect. I'm too damaged for this, for you."

"Don't you think I get to make that decision?" she countered.

He smiled at her sadly. "You always take care of me, don't you, even when it hurts you?"

She didn't reply.

He stood up, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Just sleep here okay? I don't want you wandering the streets alone in the middle of the night. Sleep on the couch if you want."

She left him standing there bereft and disappeared into the bedroom. He sighed and pressed his fingers to his pounding head.

**A/N: Let me know what you think guys. I think I might have to move this story back into the M category moving forward…**


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

VIII.

Teresa shut the French doors to her bedroom and pouted. She felt unfulfilled and, quite frankly, guilty. She had been careful with Jane, and when she felt his fingers on her calf, she knew he was thinking the same things she was. If he had maintained his distance, she never would have pushed.

Now he was having a panic attack in the other room, all because she French kissed him. That hadn't happened since 7th grade.

She fiddled with her cross. She shouldn't have pushed him, shouldn't have crossed the line. He was still grieving for God's sake, and she was trying to entice him to bed. The man needed therapy, not an orgasm.

She kicked off her clothes and debated slipping into a tee-shirt. What was the point, she thought. If he came into her room then it wasn't for a late night chat. She slipped naked between her sheets and stared at the ceiling. She could hear him moving around in the other room.

She noticed the light on the corner of her phone blinking. She pressed the on button.

_Get lucky yet?_ A text from Cate.

She typed back. _He freaked._

She waited a beat, then the screen flashed again. _What did you do!?_

_Kissed him._ If it was possible to be sullen in a text message, she was.

_Some kiss._

Another beat, the Cate replied. _Go and un-freak him. He's worth it._

She sighed and put the phone down. He was, but she wouldn't hurt him for this.

XXX

Jane thought about leaving, going down to his room, grabbing his bag and disappearing. On Monday, they could forget anything had happened between them and go back to their normal lives.

He couldn't leave the couch, though. Time seemed suspended in fragile bubble, and he knew if he got up, he'd break it and there would be no going back. He had to make a decision, right now, as to how this would proceed.

He turned his face into the cushions. They smelled like her. His lips still tingled where she kissed him.

If he was going to break his unspoken vow of celibacy for anyone, he'd want it to be Lisbon. The problem was that if he loved her enough to remove his wedding band for her, he also loved her enough to know that he wouldn't do anything but hurt her in the end. As much as he wanted to be in that room, in her arms, he knew that it wasn't enough to stop his hunt for Red John…a hunt that would likely end in his death.

He couldn't offer Lisbon domestic bliss without Red John knowing and targeting her. They couldn't go home together, couldn't hold hands in public or kiss her anyone outside of this hotel. The best he could do would be to offer her a relationship of sneaking around like adulterers. She deserved so much more than that.

He took one final whiff of the pillows and stood up. He opened the door to her bedroom without knocking. He heard her inhale sharply when he entered. The only light was the reflected glow from the city outside her window.

He swallowed thickly at the sight of her lying in bed. It was more intimate than he had expected.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, her hair falling over one shoulder. He could see the outline of her breasts underneath the thin sheet.

She looked at him expectantly. He didn't want to do this, but he had to.

"I'm going to leave, Lisbon, and I want you to call him and invite him back. I want you to be happy with him, even though he doesn't deserve you, and forget about me," he said with quiet sincerity.

Lisbon blinked at him. In the darkness it was difficult to make out her expression, but he thought it might be confusion. "Him?" she asked finally.

"You're boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, whatever," he replied.

She pushed her hair back from her face and the sheet fell enough to expose one nipple, dusky in the purple half-light. He swallowed and it felt like swallowing glass.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Jane," she said very carefully as if she was speaking to a child.

He snorted. "Please. You've been happy and relaxed lately, someone is making you dinner, taking you to the theater, and you're spending the weekend in the luxury suite. Don't lie to me, Teresa, it isn't like you."

She was silent for a long minute, as the weight of his perception finally settled on her shoulders. Then she picked her phone up off the nightstand and hurled it at him. He wasn't expecting the move, and the phone bounced off his shoulder.

"Ow!" Jane muttered.

Lisbon flipped on the bedside lamp. The minute the light hit him, the romantic spell of sneaking into her room at one a.m. vanished. Now he was Jane the errant consultant, and she was pissed. Naked, but pissed.

She wrapped the sheet around her as she stood up, her face thunderous. "You thought I had a boyfriend? You didn't come here to meet a friend tonight, did you?" she demanded. "You've been stalking me!"

He rubbed his bruised shoulder and tried not to notice that the sheet was nearly transparent. "Don't be ridiculous…"

"So, if I flash my badge at the front desk, they'll tell me there is definitely no Patrick Jane staying here?" she asked, voice sharp. She was scowling at him.

He blanched. "Well…"

"Jesus Jane, you can't do anything by halves can you?" she shouted, then marched over to him, jabbing a finger in his chest. "Why not say, 'hey, Lisbon, are you seeing someone?' instead of following me around? That's just weird, Jane."

"I wanted to make sure he was good enough for you," he replied lamely.

"And if he wasn't?" she demanded.

He winced. "I hadn't actually gotten to that part yet."

She growled. She actually growled. "I don't know what infuriates me more, the fact that you invaded my personal life by stalking me or the fact that you're so emotionally constipated that you thought that was an appropriate way to display your jealousy."

"Jealousy?" he barked. He paused. "Did you say 'emotionally constipated?"

She didn't pause. "I mean the whole 'I wanted to see if he was good enough for you' line is such BS. A friend figures that out by talking, meeting the guy, not sneaking around a hotel like a lunatic!" She punctuated her last comment with a sharp jab of her finger into the center of his chest.

"I was maybe a little jealous," he admitted.

"And paranoid!" Jab. "And being your usual manipulative self by following me around instead of asking me!" Jab. "I am not a _mark_, Jane!" The final jab was hard enough to make him wince.

He flinched, moving his arms to protect his chest. "I didn't think you were a mark, woman!"

"You treated me like one! You conned me!"

He didn't know what to say to that, so he stood there dumbly.

"You know all through dinner I think, poor Jane, poor lonely sad Jane. Why do I even feel sorry for you?" Some of her rage had subsided and now her voice was resigned more than anything.

"Because I'm hopeless?" he suggested.

She sighed and blew the hair out of her eyes. "Get out of here, Jane," she said tiredly. "Go to your own room and leave me to lick my wounds in peace."

There was a stabbing pain in his chest at her words. He said, "Wounds?"

Her face was red. "I threw myself at you in there!" she snapped. "I thought you were coming onto me tonight, not trying to deduce if I had boyfriend."

"I did come on to you," he said defensively. "I almost threw you on the floor and ripped your clothes off!"

"Because you were jealous," she replied acidly. "Someone else was playing with your toys. Do you really think you would have done that if you didn't think you had competition?"

No, he realized. He'd still be hiding in his attic pretending not to love her.

She pointed to the door with one hand, the other clutching the sheet to her chest.

Resigned, he left, tail tucked between his legs.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

IX.

Sunday

After locking her door behind Jane, Teresa shut off her phone and hit the mini bar. She made two rum and cokes, drank them one after the other, then crawled into bed and pulled the sheets up over her head.

She was, in a word, humiliated.

Here she had thought she was seducing Patrick Jane, that they might find some common comfort in sex, and instead he was conning her. Just like the leather couch, the blue teacup, the Red John case file, he viewed Teresa Lisbon as his. He was jealous that she might allow another man into her life.

It was sick.

The worst part was, for as embarrassed as she was, she was also a tiny bit flattered that he was so possessive of her. She would have been more flattered if he was actually interested in pursuing a relationship with her outside of work. Instead he'd apologized for kissing her, eyes wild and terrified.

She pulled the pillow over her head and groaned.

XXX

Jane meant to go to his room, but somehow found the bar instead. Once there is seemed like a great idea to drink. The whiskey didn't wash the taste of guilt out of his mouth.

"Struck out, huh?"

He turned to see the same blonde from earlier saunter over to the bar. She was wearing a red cocktail dress and looked a little worse for wear.

She didn't wait for him to reply. Instead she sat down on the stool next to his, and said "Me too. He said he played competitive water polo. Is there a version of water polo that isn't competitive, Captain Redundancy?" She snorted. "Total loser, as it turns out."

Jane signaled the bar tender and ordered another whiskey for himself and one for her.

"So how did it go with Teresa then?" Cate asked.

Jane took a long drink, then said, "So you're the boyfriend."

"I thought you were some sort of Sherlock Holmes," she said with a laugh, "and then I find you skulking around the hotel longue. No way that was a coincidence."

"I'm usually not wrong," he said defensively.

"You probably usually aren't emotionally involved either," she pointed out. "So, pretty bad then huh?"

"She may have found out I was stalking her and beat me up a little," he said. "Then kicked me out on my ass."

"You totally had that coming," Cate told him.

He sighed, sipped his drink.

She swiveled on her chair to face him directly. "Look, I've known Teresa since we were in Catholic grade school. I know about her first kiss, the first time she got her period…"

"She was fifteen and mad because all the other girls got it first," he supplied.

Cate wrinkled her nose. "It's so gross you guessed that. Anyway, I was there the first couple of times she fell in love."

"Good for you."

"So I know how she acts when she's head over heels in love with someone, and guess what, Blondie? She's got it for you bad." She paused for dramatic effect and took a pull of the whiskey. She ordered herself a beer then continued. "So my suggestion is not to blow this."

He felt a hitch in his breath. "In love with me?"

She rolled her eyes. "For a genius, you're an idiot. Yeah, like really, really in love."

Jane squeezed his eyes closed. "She shouldn't be. I'm a mess."

"Right, because everyone makes totally rational decisions when it comes to love."

"Lisbon likes to fix damaged men," he counted.

Cate raised an eyebrow at him. "No she doesn't. She stays the hell away from them after raising those brothers of hers. If she's putting up with your nonsense she really does care. Did you know she was engaged to a CPA once? _Boring_."

Jane stared at her. "She was engaged?"

Cate sighed and reached into her clutch. She pulled out a plastic keycard and slide it across the bar to him. "Look, I'm done playing fairy godmother here. Go upstairs and make this right, or I'll kill you myself."

He stared at the card for a moment, the little white key so innocuous and yet so dangerous. Carefully he reached into his pocket and removed his own key. "Room 204. So you won't have to go back to the 'competitive water polo player.'"

She grinned as she took it from him. "Thanks, Blondie. Now go grovel."

He took the key, and squaring himself for a battle, made his way back to the elevators.

XXX

Teresa heard Cate unlock their door. She glanced at the alarm clock; the neon green numbers read 4:01. It would be dawn soon. She hadn't slept a wink.

She pulled the sheet back over her head when she heard the door to her room open.

"I don't want to talk about it," she grumbled from under the covers.

"Too bad, because I do," said a familiar male voice.

Before she could react he grabbed the bottom of the sheet and whisked it off the bed with a flourish.

Teresa lurched upright, reaching for the sheet and missing. "Jane!" she screamed. She was still naked. It was one thing to let him see her naked when she thought they might spend the night together, it was another entirely when they were fighting.

She felt vulnerable as his eyes swept over her, lingering on her breasts, her legs, her stomach.

"You are beautiful," he announced.

"Get the hell out, Jane!"

"And you know what, I was jealous," he said, unbuttoning his vest. "I was jealous and possessive and stupid because you _are_ mine, Teresa Lisbon." He dropped the vest to the floor and started on his shirt.

Her eyes widened as he revealed a patch of surprisingly muscled chest. Anger warred with lust in her belly. "Get out right now," she said, but it lacked conviction.

"I was afraid to have you, but afraid to let anyone either," he explained calmly, pulling the shirt tails from his pants and tossing the garment over the back of a chair. He bent at the waist and began to pull off his shoes and socks, doing a little hopping dance as he balanced. "And if you really wanted me out of here, you'd have pushed me out. Let's face it, Teresa, I can't make you do anything you don't want to."

His hands moved to his belt.

"Stop!" she gasped, and he listened, hands frozen mid-motion.

"What is this?" she asked. "Really?"

"I'm in love with you and it took a sassy blonde to make me realize it," he said. "She gave me her key, by the way."

_I'm in love with you._

"Isn't that a little fast," she demanded. "You told me earlier you've been celibate since your wife died."

"Well, I spent the last three years pining after you from the couch, so that wasn't exactly contributing to my emotional availability," he replied tartly.

A picture of him sitting on his course, teacup in hand, staring at her office with longing flashed through her mind; it warred with the one of him insolently napping. "Is this a con?" she asked sharply.

Jane rolled his eyes. "Do you want me to take my pants off or not?" he asked.

She paused. She could act put out and angry, but he was here, telling her he loved her, which was what she wanted anyway, wasn't it? She was more than halfway in love with him. She was all the way, stupid in love, ever since that origami frog.

"Yes," she said primly. "I think I would."

"Thank God," he muttered and quickly divested himself of his slacks and underwear. He paused for a moment beside the bed, hesitated. "Teresa, I can't offer you much," he said quietly.

She quirked an eyebrow. "You look just fine from here."

He smirked at her. "You know what I mean."

She held out a hand to him. "Patrick, I don't need very much."

He climbed into bed.

**A/N: Did that progress too quickly? Should the next chapter be M? Let me know, folks.**

**On a side note, I love it when Jane acts presumptuous and alpha-male-like, but in real life I suspect it would just be annoying. **


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

**This chapter is rated M for graphic sex. If you aren't comfortable with that skip to chapter 11, you won't miss anything integral to the story, I promise.**

X.

For a moment, as skin pressed hotly against skin, they were both still in the darkness. He felt her breath leave her body as his chest lowered to hers, and he closed his eyes.

Her hands, soft and small, fluttered to the small of his back as she pressed a kiss to his lips. As far as he was concerned, it was their first kiss. It was filled with intention, with understanding, with acceptance.

It pained him, but he pulled back from her lips.

"I might only be able to give you tonight," he whispered against her cheek.

Her hands smoothed down the skin of his back, to his buttocks, ghosting over his skin.

"I'm sure you have more stamina than that," she whispered coyly, but it rang hollow. They both knew what he meant. Those closest to Jane had become targets. She was willing to risk herself, but she wouldn't force him to acknowledge this publicly, not after Angela and Kristina. They had their jobs to consider too.

She pressed a kiss to his neck, warm and open-mouthed against his skin.

"Just for tonight then," she said.

Her words made their touch suddenly real to him and he shuddered against her. He kissed her again, but the minute his tongue touched hers he became frenzied. He had been alone for so long, untouched for so long, that every brush of her skin against his set paths of fire along his body.

Her thighs cradled him, her foot trailing along his calf, and he felt the heat down to the tips of his toes. She was so soft, smelled of lavender and sleep, and he had to immerse himself in it; he wanted to drown in pale skin, dark hair and her quiet moans.

His hands slid behind her back, crushing her against him, his mouth bruising hers. He couldn't kiss her deeply enough, long enough. If he hesitated she might fade into a cruel dream.

With a ragged breath he tore his mouth from hers, pressed open-mouthed kisses along her neck. His tongue traced flickering paths down to her shoulder. He thrust against her, wild, seeking warmth and home.

He realized then that she was gasping for her air because he was clutching her so tightly.

"Teresa," he said, voice wavering. "I'm not sure…I don't think I can…"

"It's been a long time and you're afraid you'll hurt me," she observed softly. She wrapped her hands around his biceps and squeezed. He could see his manic need reflected in her eyes. "It's okay, Jane. I'm going to be okay."

He felt the thread he was clinging to begin to fray. He was trembling.

She took his hand in hers, guided it to her core, and his fingers came back silky and glimmering with her own need. "I'm ready, Jane," she whispered, kissing him, her tongue wicked velvet.

He surged into her, gasping as her heat enclosed him, searing and wonderful. Vaguely her heard her gasp. He didn't stop; he couldn't. It wasn't just about years of repressed sexual urges, it was about being inside _her._ He was immersed in her smell, the sound of her voice, the hitch in her breath every time he thrust into her. He felt her nails bite into his back, her legs clutch him. He was afraid to stop, even for a moment, afraid to let her go lest she run away.

This was his Lisbon, the woman who redeemed him, who loved him when he didn't deserve him. She was welcoming into him into the shelter of her body. She was claiming him with the brand of her kisses on his neck and chin.

He knew he was being rough. He could hear the harsh slapping of skin and his own throaty growling. Her body was so small beneath him.

His head fell to her neck, and instinctively he bit into the skin there. It had to be painful, but he let out a strangled scream as he felt her convulse around him. She was making wild little sobbing noises, and her hips were rolling with the force of her orgasm. He felt his own climax building deep within his stomach, spreading out all the way to his fingertips. A few more frantic seconds, a few choking gasps, and his vision went white. He collapsed on top of her.

For a while the room was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of them panting to catch their breath. They were both slick with sweat and trembling.

He knew he should move, but he was pretty sure he'd lost all use of his legs.

"Teresa," he murmured against the skin of her neck. "Did I hurt you?"

She ran her fingers through his hair. "No, Jane, you didn't hurt me."

He thought she might be lying, but then she was a terrible liar so surely he'd be able to tell?

They both fell into a half slumber for a while, his weight cushioned by her body. He woke to feel the even rise and fall of her breasts under his cheek. Rising on his elbows he kissed her until her eyes opened, sleepy and pleased.

"Do you regret it?" she asked him. He didn't see any reservation in her eyes.

"No," he said, and realized it was true.

He began to feather light kisses over her body, soothing all the little hurts he'd left behind, real or imagined. He trailed his lips over her breasts, her hips, the flat plane of her belly.

Above him, she sighed, running her fingers through his hair.

He slipped one slender leg of his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to her sex because surely he'd bruised her there too. He explored every inch of her there with wet, soothing kisses. He used his lips, his tongue, even his teeth a little bit to draw her sighs and moans. He filed each one away in his memory palace to keep for future reference. He didn't stop when she made little hiccupping sobs and pulled roughly at his hair. He didn't stop after the second time she came, either.

Finally she pulled roughly on his hair and said, "Patrick,_ please_."

He looked up, grinning. Her expression was wild as his must have been before. He rolled onto his back and lifted her above him. It would be easier for her this way; she could control the angle, the speed. Also he had a very graphic fantasy about watching her above him, her hair a dark cloud around her, her face contorted in pleasure.

He rested his hands on her hips, but didn't guide her. She set her hands flat against his chest and, breathless and flushed, lowered herself onto him.

"Patrick," she gasped. "Patrick, I love you."

He squeezed her hips. "I love you, too, Teresa."


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Jealous, Dear?

Author: Mlee Write

Rating: T

Spoilers: Set somewhere in season 3 approximately.

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with the Mentalist in any way and am not earning a profit from this.

Summary: "Jane stretched out on her couch and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep; he just listened, hoping for another clue as to her mystery lover. Not that it was any of his business who she had sex with. It wasn't, obviously." Jisbon.

Author's Note: Something light-hearted and funny for once! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my stories. As always, you make my day.

XI.

Offending morning light streamed in through the curtains. Jane squinted against the brightness, afraid to move lest he wake the woman currently sprawled across his body. He traced his hand along one pale leg affectionately.

He'd learned a lot about Teresa in the hours between pre-dawn and what he guessed now was late morning. One of the more interesting tidbits was that she was a cuddler…and she snored, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

He felt boneless and content, grinning like an idiot.

He felt her wake minutes before she actually opened her eyes. When she finally lifted her head from his chest he was relieved to see her smile. Her hair was mess. Part of him was proud that he had something to do with that.

"Good morning, beautiful," he murmured.

She propped herself up on one elbow, but didn't roll off him. "Did you sleep at all?"

"I think I went into a coma after all that exertion. I am creaky after all," he pointed.

She kissed him softly. "Not too creaky."

He punctuated his kisses with comments. "I'm going to send Cate a muffin basket." Kiss. "Or a dozen roses." Kiss. "Or real polo player. The kind with horses."

Teresa pulled back. "Huh?"

He grinned. "Never mind. Want to order eggs from room service?"

"I suppose I need to feed you now," she conceded. After a pause her eyes grew thoughtful, and she sat up, straddling his waist. She pushed her hair back over one shoulder and he could see her expression turn serious. "I meant what I said, Patrick. I do love you. And if this ends tonight, I'll live with it, but I want more, and I'm not scared."

She wasn't. He could see the conviction in her eyes. "I love you too," he replied. "And we'll figure it out somehow."

He entwined his fingers through hers, and noticed when she felt the cold metal of his wedding band against her skin. She looked down to where he'd moved the band to his right hand during the night.

She smiled. It was enough. For now.

_Monday_

Jane was lounging indolently on the sofa. Grace could swear he was actually asleep this time.

She glanced at him as she made her way to the kitchen for more coffee; yup, definitely asleep. That was odd for him.

Cho and Rigsby were by the coffee pot, looking like old women gossiping over a fence. Rigsby startled guiltily

"Is Jane sick?" Grace asked, reaching for the coffee pot. "I swear I heard him snoring."

"Yeah, uh, we noticed that too," Rigsby said, not meeting her eyes.

"He and the boss spent the weekend doing it," Cho replied.

Grace nearly dropped her mug.

"Cho…" Rigsby groaned.

Grace felt a little nauseated. "I can't believe you guys would say something like that," she said hotly. "I mean this place has a big enough rumor mill without you two—"

She stopped as Lisbon breezed into the kitchenette, humming merrily. "Morning guys," she said, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of juice. She looked happy and well rested and…and she practically glowed. She wandered off, practically leaving a cloud of contentment behind her.

"Oh my God," Grace mumbled.

Rigsby looked at his half eaten donut and tossed it in the trash. "I can't even eat now."

Cho just shrugged. "Maybe now that she's in a good mood we'll all get a day off."

There was a scuffling noise from the direction of the bullpen, then Lisbon's voice shouting, "Jane! Did you change my network password? I swear to God…"

"Probably not," Cho amended.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, let me know! I've got a sequel coming called Rumor Has It.**


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